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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339418">Happiness Shared</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MDJensen/pseuds/MDJensen'>MDJensen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawaii Five-0 (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Post-Finale, Valentine's Day, men receiving flowers, queerplatonic McDanno is my jam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:27:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MDJensen/pseuds/MDJensen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny, fluffy Valentine's Day for our boys 💜</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happiness Shared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set within my post-finale universe but unrelated to the other stories (aka there's no need to read those to understand this).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Happiness held is the seed; happiness shared is the flower.” - John Harrigan</p><p> </p><p>The doorbell rings, and Danny wags his eyebrows expectantly. Not that he’s busy; he’s quarterway through a bottle of red wine and halfway through a bag of Milano cookies, and neither of those, let’s be honest, is uninterruptable. To Steve’s mind, at any rate. But Danny shoves another cookie in his mouth and tilts his head a bit, and Steve groans, and pushes to his feet.</p><p>He’s not even sure who’s at the door. They’re not expecting any packages. The team still drops by, almost as casually as they did at the old house, but he doubts it’s any of them today. Junior and Tani will be together; Lou’ll be with his wife. The others, Steve’s not sure, but it would still surprise him.</p><p>And, no, it’s not any of the team.</p><p>It’s a delivery guy, holding a gigantic arrangement of pink and orange flowers.</p><p>Steve’s first thought is Grace, and he smiles; but honestly, a bouquet that size doesn’t seem compatible with a college kid’s budget. So the smile starts to fade, though he tries to keep it on. Danny kind of made it sound like he wasn’t dating anymore, but he’s allowed to, <em>obviously</em>; and besides, any woman who sends her man flowers is a good one in Steve’s book. He himself, he’s never actually gotten flowers. Like, ever. So who is he to begrudge Danny a woman who’d treat him like this—?</p><p>All this has gone through his mind by the time he opens the door. Then the delivery guy smiles mildly, glances down at his tablet, and prompts, “Steve McGarrett?”</p><p>“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Steve gets out, intelligently. Instinct has him already searching for explosives nestled between the blossoms, but— there <em>aren’t</em>. So he accepts the delivery, a little stiltedly. Then just sort of stands there, cradling the flowers to his belly, as the guy nods at him and heads back down the drive.</p><p>There’s a little card, attached to the vase. He flips it open with one finger and reads, simply, <em>To Steve, From Danny</em>.</p><p>He feels eyes on him, even before he turns. “Did you, uh,” Steve grunts, “did you get me flowers?”</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Danny replies, with a one-shoulder shrug.</p><p>With his last gasp of pragmatism, Steve steps fully inside and closes the door; then he stares down at the arrangement in his arms—</p><p>And laughs. Quietly, but long enough and deep enough he starts shaking; laughs until he feels teeny tiny tears start to trickle their way down his cheeks. “You got me flowers,” Steve blubs, bowing his head to inhale their scent.</p><p>Danny’s come a bit closer, now. He perches on the arm of Steve’s easy chair, where Eddie is napping through the excitement, and rubs the dog’s head. “You okay?”</p><p>“They come with a vase,” Steve replies, showing this off. “That’s perfect, because, I don’t know if I own any vases.”</p><p>“I mean, you didn’t. Now that we’ve combined forces, we do own some vases. Are you laugh-crying or cry-crying?”</p><p>Steve ignores him. The initial shock has faded just enough for him to actually understand some of what he’s looking at: there are pink orchids, orange birds of paradise, and a dozen pale blush roses. Spiny, peach-colored flowers, too, ones he doesn’t know the name of. All cloaked in thick sprays of greenery, and dotted with clusters of miniscule white ginger lilies.</p><p>It is actually and sincerely one of the loveliest things he’s ever seen.</p><p>The shaking is worse now, spreading all the way to his knees. He sets the flowers down on the coffee table with utmost care, then rubs trembling hands on the thighs of his cargo pants. Danny actually looks a little worried at this point. Unfortunately Steve does nothing to reassure him, because the next thing he does is mutter that he’ll be right back and vault hurriedly up the stairs.</p><p>It doesn’t occur to him, in the moment, how this might look. That, especially to a worrier like Danny, this might seem more like an impending breakdown than an act of excitement. <em>Whoops</em>. So Steve rushes a bit, pausing only to blow his runny nose before doing what he’s gone up to do and fetching Danny’s gift from the closet.</p><p>Back downstairs, Danny smiles in relief at his return. Then he keeps smiling, brighter now, as Steve dumps the perfectly wrapped box in his arms. “I got you something, too.”</p><p>“’s fucking heavy,” Danny notes, with a frown of bemusement. He balances the box on one hip, tries to peel the paper, fails; goes over and plops down on the couch. Once seated he opens his gift properly.</p><p>“It’s a weighted blanket,” Steve explains, because Danny doesn’t seem to know what he’s looking at, at first. “It’s supposed to help if you have, like, like anxiety, or trouble sleeping— you go under it, and it helps—?”</p><p>“And chocolates,” Danny notes, holding aloft the big, heart-shaped box. “This’s great, babe. Seriously. Thank you.”</p><p>“Yours too,” Steve replies, and as if on cue his nose starts trying to run again. He pinches his thumb and forefinger across it, quickly, and flashes a smile. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”</p><p>“Yeah, I kind of figured. From the reaction.”</p><p>“But I always thought it’d be so nice, y’know? And, it is.”</p><p>“I’m glad.”</p><p>“Oh! I got steaks to grill for dinner, too.”</p><p>Danny flops back against the cushions and laughs. “I got stuff for chicken piccata.”</p><p>“Flip you? Loser cooks today, winner cooks tomorrow?”</p><p>“I mean. We don’t have to decide now, I don’t think. Neither’s gonna take hours, y’know?” Danny grins, and pulls his new blanket over his lap. “And it’s early. I think, you go get the wine from the kitchen. Then we sit, and we eat some chocolate, and we take a fucking nap because we’re fucking retired and we can do that.”</p><p>Which is maybe the best idea Steve’s ever heard.</p><p>So he hauls himself into the kitchen; gets Danny’s wine, with an extra glass, and the Milano cookies for good measure. Brings it all, and the remote, back to Danny’s side. Not half a minute later, the blanket is over both of their laps, the open box of chocolates on top, and Steve’s pouring himself a drink while Danny gets something mindless going on TV. These tasks done, they lean back with twin sighs.</p><p>Steve’s still having to sniffle once in a while. Combined with the looseness in his limbs, it sort of feels like he’s cried his eyes out; which is silly, because that isn’t even close to true. Still there’s a genuine catharsis. All the relief and comfort and vulnerability, but none of the prerequisite sadness.</p><p>Just— the peace.</p><p>Steve wipes his nose again. Gets a glare from Danny when he uses the same fingers to root through the chocolates. Then comes a weight on his shoulder, as his friend lays his head there.</p><p>“Blanket’s nice,” Danny mumbles, already sounding sleepy. “Kinda feels like Eddie’s in my lap.”</p><p>“Yeah, I like it.”</p><p>“Well don’t get used to it, huh?” He snorts. “It’s not living on the couch. It’s living in my bedroom.”</p><p>“Well. I was thinking I might put the flowers in <em>my</em> bedroom. So.”</p><p>“Really?” There’s a genuineness in Danny’s voice that makes Steve look over; when he does he finds the guy smiling, almost dopily. “You really like ‘em?”</p><p>“Danno, I love ‘em.”</p><p>“I felt kinda silly,” Danny admits. “I’m glad I did it anyway.”</p><p>They fall silent, and for a moment there’s just TV noise and indulgent snacking. Much as Steve loves chocolate and wine, though, it’s not long before he’s rather have freedom of movement.</p><p>So he transfers the drinks and snacks to the coffee table. Stays crouched there for a moment, smelling his flowers; and ends up stroking, experimentally, down the side of one of the roses. Then, without quite meaning to, he finds he’s plucked it from the rest of the arrangement.</p><p>Danny chuckles as Steve sits back, flower in hand. He readjusts the blanket to drape over both their laps again, and Steve goes back to smoothing his thumb across the tops of the petals.</p><p>“Lemme see,” Danny grunts; so Steve passes it over. Examines it again, as Danny does the same. The long, sturdy stem has been expertly dethorned. The petals curl comfortably together; like seashells, they’re nearly cream-colored on their backs and pinker towards their edges. But they’re softer than seashells, of course. Nearly too delicate to perceive against your skin, like the fur at the base of Eddie’s ears.</p><p>Danny gives the rose a quick sniff, then hands it back. Shifts in place, turning slightly away and nudging Steve with his forehead until Steve wraps an arm around him. Then he settles easily in the crook. Steve makes himself comfortable too, and all this ends with his left hand on Danny’s sleeve and his right hand cupped around the flower’s blossom. Its stem fits between his fingers just as Danny fits between his arm and side.</p><p>Danny sighs, going heavier by the second. “We should wake up by six, huh?” he murmurs, and it occurs to Steve for the first time that his friend has drunk enough to be a bit tipsy. “You cooking, or’m I?”</p><p>Steve chuckles. “I will. If you’re even hungry, after all those cookies.”</p><p>“’m hungry,” Danny mutters. And that’s the last thing he says for a while. Steve thumbs the rose a bit more. Shifts, until he can rest his chin on Danny’s head.</p><p>“You know what I was thinking about?” Steve muses, quietly. Danny, slack with sleep now, doesn’t respond; but Steve continues anyway. “You asked me if I was laugh-crying or cry-crying. And here’s the thing. I think, I used to think you cried when you laughed just because, y’know. You were scrunching your face up. Like, your eyes were physically just watering. Like when you hear a really funny joke. I, uh. Obviously by now I get that there’s— that that’s not what that really means.”</p><p>He sighs. Thinks about closing his eyes, but the blur of blossoms tempts them to stay open. So he stares— lets his gaze unfocus but does not let his eyelids slip shut. Pinks and peaches and whites and greens go fuzzy, and blend together into something that reminds him of a forest at sunrise.</p><p>Those are <em>his</em> flowers. Somebody got <em>him</em> flowers.</p><p><em>Danny</em> got him flowers, in fact; then he shared his chocolates and fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder.</p><p>“I just,” Steve whispers. “These days, I finally get what it’s like to be so happy you just— it just leaks out. Huh? So. Thanks. For helping me figure that out.” Steve gathers Danny, and his rose, a bit closer; and finally lets his eyes slip shut.</p><p>“Happy Valentine’s Day, Danno.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The other day I thought about how Steve has probably never gotten flowers and I was in an awful mood so I actually started crying. And that turned into this.</p><p>In any case, I wish you a very happy Valentine's Day, whether you are partnered romantically, platonically, queerplatonically, or simply not partnered at all. Three guesses which I am, and which I wish I were 😂</p></blockquote></div></div>
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